RED
by DahliaASant
Summary: The struggle within Nigredo's mind as he is being possessed by Yuriev.


This takes place at the point in Episode II in which Nigredo is about to be possessed by Yuriev, in which he is fighting for control of his thoughts. And it's all in his point of view...in his mind. So it's very abstract as you are reading his thoughts Italics is Yuriev/his mind and Bold is his own thoughts. There's also alot of reference to the color "Red" as well, so it means alot of different things within the course of the fanfic. I think that's all...Enjoy. And I LOVE FEEDBACK. It would be greatly appreciated!

* * *

SHOCK.  
Voice inside of his head.  
He struggles; palms against temples.  
Trembling.  
To listen.  
**NO. ****  
****Can't listen-**

_LISTEN._

The voice screams.  
Every day now, it attacks.  
Disease pouring throughout his veins. Putrid blood forming memories beneath his flesh.  
Every night, stars falling like cells of sanity in his mind.  
Like his resistance.  
His logic.  
Willpower.  
His life.  
Green eyes struggle to see clearly.  
Focus.  
Make sense of things.  
Concentrate on here-on now. On a cedar desk and metal office chair; on wooden walls, fluorescent light. On the freckled face of a blue-eyed boy with arms out wide to protect him.  
Comfort-

Love.

Fleeting images in his brain dissipate like scattered leaves-coalesce into the flaming scarlet and regal jasper of that boy's sun-flecked locks of hair.  
Red.  
Passion.  
Loyalty.

Blood.

The picture becomes jagged; grainy, transfixed. Those azure eyes fill with fear-then, something worse.  
Rage.  
Hatred.

The image shakes, twists its coils around his screaming mind. His heart is being gutted, raped in dread-little blue eyed boy with his snarling lips, foam-mouthed scream as his fists stab the air and the ground trembles.

**No.**

Veins burst forth and break across his flesh. Red hair flies from red-flecked skin. Red aura surrounds his tiny frame-the world is on fire.  
His heart breaks.  
Red Dragon.  
His brain screams.

**No.**

It's almost mechanical. Doll-like. The way he draws his knife from his pocket, bares its teeth to the red-haired lover. The way the tears stream down his face in steady rhythm to the staccatos of his footsteps. The way his breath quickens into sobs as he rushes forward and comes close-  
So close-  
The taste of his lips is like bliss.

His tears are slippery against his soft cheeks.

His own voice is so calm, so tender as he soothes him. Calms him. Cradles him.

**No.**

The aura fades, the blue eyes close. Peaceful. Relaxed. Love. Green eyes harden in ferocity. He leaps forward. In, out. The jerk of the knife. Like butter.

Red.

Oceanic eyes open; blue rivers trickling down porcelain cheeks. Little boy falters in his arms; a gasp, a whisper. His skin is sallow. He reaches out; desperate hands.

**No. **

Strokes his green-eyed face.  
With passion.  
With loyalty.

With love.

Red, the blood oozing down his opened mouth.  
Whispering one word.

"Why?"

_Duty._

**NO.**

He screams. Sobs. Fists balled, tearing at his hair to rid himself of those images. The boy falls onto the floor. He rips at his flesh with his bare hands. Fingers gouging skin, struggling to bare blood. To escape his mind. To breathe. Pounds and pounds of flesh compressing compressing compressing **compressing**compressing compressing-

Blue-eyed boy rolls across the ground. Pale and porcelain. Metallic. Synthetic. Like-

_A doll._

**No. ****  
****We're not dolls. **

Voices twist and turn and rape his thoughts, oozing and slithering and squirming and writhing to infest. To feed on his soul.

_No soul. _

**I am human.**

He gets to his feet, screams in outrage. Confusion. Pain. Hands want to break, to rip. Hands want destruction. Fingers cling to metal chairs, bend them like clay. Overturning desks, ripping rugs like paper. To destroy anything. To know it is his own will-human rage-no one else's-

Hands catch eyes and eyes catch hands and he is caught again.

669.

The number like ventriloquist strings; hooks prying at the skin of his soul. He clutches onto his head-struggles to rip apart the skin, protect his brain-_hisfucking brain. _

**Get out of my brain.**

Blue-eyed stare. Gentle, compassionate. Accepting and loving and warm and ecstatic-

Rubedo?

No.

The eyes are pale and worn by age. Smile is fleshy; stripped by time. It is missing skin, it is skewered by holes that offer sight of blackened gums, rotting and crawling with maggots. Skeletal smile.

Father.  
Daddy.  
Yuriev.  
Madman.  
**BASTARD.**

Scream.  
His mind.  
Heart.  
Body.

Soul.

Shut out the image like every year-every month-every week-every day-every second-

**Every BREATH-**

Yet he comes. Darkness comes. The image in his mind is of peering into a static, blurred box of unfettered motion pictures-

Of better days with sweet ignorance. Of violet stares and white-haired brothers; of gardens blooming and neverending green; of oceans of blue blue blue blue blue blue in those lovely eyes-

Of a crooked smile and a blood stained coat. Of blonde hair and the stench of corpses. Of brainwashed dolls and their giddy ventriloquist-

Of the red of U-DO.

He fought them, those breaking daymares and nightdreams and the whispers of the mind. Fought and fought with shaky breath for everything. For the duties and missions and days to come-for the smiling faces and the women who loved-

What were their names?

What are their fucking **names? **

Loss. The memory begins to fade-visions flick and die like candlelight, darkness-

He is holding a gun in his trembling hands. Anguished eyes of jaded green are cocked in rage as the mouth of a pistol opens-

Hostile gaze of a father, disgusted eyes. He reaches forward to stop him, Nigredo, come here-

Cold sister's lips, hypnotic, devouring, repeating the words until they hurt, until they killed;

"It is your _duty duty duty duty duty_-you're just like us-"

**No. Not a monster.**

Her eyes open; red and demonic. Void of emotion. Void of compassion.

_Just like us._

_"Manage and subdue…violent nature…"_

Red red red. Blood red hair red lips red skin-

Red Dragon.

_"Red…and precious." _

He bursts forward in rage, grabs her delicate head-cracking of bones, snapping of her neck. Breaking of her skull between his fingertips. In his mind's eye he kills her; kills her to save him, to **defy defy defy **his _duty duty duty-_

**You won't make me kill him-**

_KILL._

**I'm abandoning the mission! I WON'T FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS ANYMORE.**

The pistol screams.

Nigredo screams.

Daddy screams.

Falls.

**_…Daddy?_**

Tears.

Pain.

Shock.

This isn't how it was supposed to be-

He had summoned his doll at the last moment-

Red-haired boy limp in daddy's arms. Bullet laughing from the depths of his chest. Mocking the black-haired murderer; wide-eyed. Sickly grin. Father's eyes cold with his bastard smile-

_He will die either way. You'll always kill him._

**  
****Rubedo.**  
_  
__Like father, like son._

He tastes the corpse's cold lips. The lips of the only boy he ever loved. The only boy he ever will love. He tastes those lips and raises the gun to his own head. In his mind's eye, he prods the smiling pistol. The smiling Yuriev. The smiling mouth of Fate.  
_  
__Of his duty. _

**Doll. **

**I am a doll. **

**I can't kill everyone I love-**

In his mind, the pistol jerks to life. Its jaws are wide open; he shuts his eyes, feels bitter tears fall to his cheek. Tears of a weapon. Tears of a toy. His life, for the life of the boy.

_For you, Rubedo._

The pistol roars.

And he fades.

Fades away in a moment.

In a year, in a month, in a week, in a day, in an hour, in a second-

In a breath.

Into the skin of the doll. The blue eyes of a monster.

669.

**Mission accomplished.**

And as he fades, he sees Red.


End file.
